


i may be bad ( but i'm perfectly good at it )

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Foreplay, M/M, One Shot, POV Alternating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'<i>Cause I may be bad,</i><br/><i>but I'm perfectly good at it</i><br/><i>Sex in the air, and I don't care.</i>'<br/><br/><br/><br/>or: the one where antoine can't resist, and of course fernando falls right into the trap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i may be bad ( but i'm perfectly good at it )

**Author's Note:**

> another prompt, another day. hueheuheu.
> 
> this one is for my current fav aka marie, bless her and her prompt ideas. lmao <3 
> 
> so here it is and .. as antoine would say .. " enjoy ! "

    Attempting to end the rising rivalry against Ronaldo had been a bust, Portugal having won with one point ahead of France. Initially it had shattered the Frenchman, much like the loss against Real had, the young forward having to gnaw at the inside of his cheek to prevent the tears pricking heatedly at the back of his eyes from falling.

    Because as much as it hurt, he still had a lot to look forward to, especially since club football would start relatively soon. Which, heh, he would thoroughly enjoy much more than any trophy he could have won at the Euro final because the Euro final didn't have one essential part of his life.

    As fun and challenging as it was, even with all the lessons learned, the Euros still lacked a more than capable Fernando. So even if the initial disappointment of the loss lurked around in the corners of his mind, it never lasted long, not when he was strolling out into the freshly mowed grass of the field where the rest of the team is already beginning the first stretches of the training session.

    Fingers absentmindedly adjust the band of the magenta shorts around his waist while his eyes occupy themselves with seeking out one, tall muscular man in particular. Once he finds him, he smirks deviously to himself, allowing his eyes to narrow as he watches the way he leans forward and back to stretch, gaze focused on the grass.

    Mentally the brunet squanders up a plan, one that would easily be executed, as he meanders through the small throng of bodies to slide between Fernando and a very focused JuanFran. Of course said male is the first to notice his presence, greeting him with a small smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes—that, Antoine muses, he completely understands.

    Before the man can even fully turn his head to take in the sight of the Frenchman, a broad grin begins to bloom upon his lips, one that only serves to broaden once he rests eyes upon him. Almost instantaneously he halts all of his prior movements, tugging him into a hug, holding him a moment longer than necessary.

    "So you missed me then, yes?" Antoine hums contently once he's released, almost immediately throwing his arms above his head, reaching upward and rolling onto his toes to properly stretch. Then, as fluidly as his body allows, he transitions to bending downward to place his palms within the lush grass.

    All the while the Spaniard looks onward at the actions, one's that shouldn't be as seductive as they appear at the moment. Once small palms reach the grass, he spreads his legs further apart, lips parting slightly to release a blissful moan at the way his back loosens with a few soft cracks. Antoine holds that position for a considerate moment, not bothering to right the way his shirt crawls up his abdomen, definitely not minding the burning stare that sets his form alight.

    "Les chats ont volé ta langue?" the brunet cants his head to the side, lips twitching at the corners as he slides his gaze over to Fernando, quirking a prompt brow in his vicinity.

    What he finds is the sight of Fernando, who has seemingly forgotten what exercises he was supposed to be doing, just standing there with an indiscernible glint darkening his already dark eyes. "Didn't miss that," quips the man with a snort as he resumes his prior movements. "But I guess you could say I missed _you_ , even if you are a dick to me when you speak French."

    Snorting himself, the brunet straightens his spine, offering another relieved sigh at the sensation it manages to invoke. "Bite?"

    "Antoine," hisses the elder male in vague annoyance, lips pursing firmly together.

    "What?" More amused laughter spouts from the Frenchman as he begins the squat-like stretches that Fernando is currently doing, making sure to arch his back just right, the sight of his ass managing to look round and perky despite the loose shorts. "It means dick, that's what you meant, oui?"

    And, yeah. Somewhere in the back of Fernando's mind, he thinks it's the sexiest thing ever, even if he can't seem to place what words meant what. As hard as the man tries to prevent the grin from spreading across his lips, and he tries hard he really does, he can't seem to resist when he has the younger smugly smirking at him like that.

    "Such a smart mouth." playfully teases the Spaniard. Dark eyes travel once more from pretty blues to the beautiful curve of Antoine's ass, the way he manages to arch his back like that, and how he would prefer it to be under different circumstance. "Did you miss me?"

    Not that he had been thinking that, of course, but he would rather not have a spontaneous boner with the vast majority of his teammates only a few feet away. But the Frenchman looks overly-aware of what he's thinking, a talent the little shit possessed, one that he often dreaded in public situations. But for once, nothing teasing is said, instead he only offers a quirk of the brow.

    Azure eyes meet dark chestnut a considerate moment, the redness of Antoine's tongue making an appearance to decisively sweep along his lower lip, ivory teeth sinking into the moist area. "Did I?" It's almost illegal how coy he manages to be, almost coming second-nature to him, what with the way he coins a playful wink a second later. 

    Eventually the stretches are changing once more, not that the Spaniard minds, as he finds the younger male sprawled across the grass on his back looking pointedly up at him. One hand reaches for one of the toned, tanned legs presented to him only for the younger to hold up a pausing finger. Instinctively, hands detach and he's left with placing them upon his hips, having it jut out to the side as he patiently awaits whatever it is the Frenchman was doing.

    Those eyes—one's that would surely be the death of him, one's that he finds himself blissfully drowning in—connect with his once more while fingers hook in the hem of his brand new shirt. "What?" questions the male, feigning perplexity, as he wriggles out of it, throwing it to the side of him.

    "I know what you're doing," murmurs the Spaniard, more to himself than aloud, as he allows his gaze to gingerly slide along the exposed expanse of Antoine's chest.

    So smooth and so tanned, notes the elder, as he mentally caresses every inch of bare skin exposed to him. Instead of reaching for the leg that's now presented to him, he allows his journey to continue, nearly groaning when he reaches the hem of the magenta shorts he adorns. There was a slither of milky white, untouched skin exposed there that he mentally licks his lips at, thinking of gliding his tongue along the paleness there until finally he travels downward to wrap his mouth around his—

    "Looking pale," regards the Frenchman in a concerned tone as he looks over Fernando's countenance, though the twitch at the corners of his lips betrays him: "you feeling okay, Fernando?" 

    That little shit, muses the Spaniard, as he wraps his hands around the slenderness of the ankle extended toward him. He gulps deeply as he presses the leg forward and away from his form, watching the way Antoine's knee bends slightly at the extension. Teeth are exposed through slightly parted lips, his delicate head digging into the grass, releasing breathy sighs at the burning stretch.

    " _Harder_?"

    Fernando nearly chokes on a cough at the request, eyes going wide with bewilderment. "W-what?" he splutters pathetically as he gazes down to find azure eyes clenched tightly shut.

    "Just a little more?" hisses the brunet, letting his tongue moisten his lips once more. "Please?"

    Somewhere to the left of the two comes another voice, one that's chuckling softly. "Get a room you two, it's practice, not play out your deepest fantasies time." Koke. That bastard, thinks Fernando, as he releases one hand on Antoine's ankle to offer him the finger. "Oh, wow. No need for being rude, I was just stating facts."

    On the ground the Frenchman smirks smugly to himself, gently shaking his ankle this way and that to gain Fernando's attention. "You want it harder, huh?" Fernando inquires with a snort, obliging the younger a second later.

    "Oh, merde.." Hisses the younger, nails digging into the grass for purchase, eyes fluttering open to meet with Fernando's. "Just like that.."

    This shouldn't be affecting the Spaniard like that, it shouldn't. Right? So why were his shorts beginning to constrict until he finds himself wavering uncomfortably from side to side? There was no telling how long this training session would last and he would find no peace of mind, not when he had been paired up with Antoine for exercises.

    Fuck, he was fucked.

    One hand, as conspicuously as physically possible when surrounded by teammates, reaches downward to adjust his rapidly hardening cock within his shorts. He knew it would be like that, which is why he isn't exactly surprised by what had occurred, only frustrated and utterly agitated with the way the younger was behaving as if the two wouldn't rekindle what was abandoned once Antoine eagerly departed for France.

    An authoritative voice catches him completely off-guard, makes him nearly snap his neck with the way he glances in the direction of it. "Torres, this is practice, not dream-land," scolds Diego with a narrow of his eyes, he could only assume that his brows were furrowed too, not that it was visible. "Go to the locker-room and cool off a minute then get your ass back out here with the rest of us."

    Antoine, still currently within the grass, immediately straightens at the waist to glance at the coach. "I'm feeling a little hot too, I'll go with him? Make sure he stays out of trouble? You know how he is."

    Perhaps if it were anyone else, the raven-haired man would've just scowled and ignored it, but things with the little Frenchman were always different. "Go, Griezmann." If you blinked, you might have missed how slight of a smile managed to grace his lips, one that was reserved only for Antoine in the rarest of moments.

    Fernando runs shaky digits through his damp locks, coining a glance to the side at Antoine, finding the little shit looking as smug as one could be. There was something vaguely mesmerizing about the way the younger jogs off towards the locker-room, ass jiggling around within his shorts, the way his back muscles shift this way and that as he moves.

    When he pushes through the doors to the locker-room, he had honestly been expecting an ambush, but was instead left a little disappointed as he kicks off his boots and removes his socks. He plops down onto the long bench by the row of lockers, placing his elbows upon his thighs, leaning forward with his head in his hands.

    How could he have let the little minx get the better of him yet again?

    The only answer to that was that the Frenchman had some sort of—sort of _something_ over him. Something akin to a spell that he had willingly been lulled into, much like a siren song, simply irresistible. It was hard to deny the things—or shall he say man?—that his body desperately craved, especially when he was acting like that. So sultry in every movement, from the lip bites or the way his eyes seemed to peer straight through his very soul and then some.

    Fingers tug helplessly at the very roots of his hair, as if he could will the way he feels away, but it's to no avail. Finally he straightens once more, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, sliding it off and tossing it toward his still-open locker. It doesn't make it inside it, however, to which he rolls his eyes at.

    When he goes to stand, he finds a pair of slender arms slinking around his neck, a bare chest finding an equally as bare back. "Where do you think you're going, hm?" Lips are suddenly at his ear, the very tip of his tongue gliding along the outline. "Je te veux.."

    "Spanish or nothing at all?"

    "Non?"

    Fernando growls at that, turning his head to the side, finding Antoine grinning at him. "Nothing at all then," states the man as he surges forward to capture the latter's lips in a searing kiss. 

    An approving hum spews from thin lips as he succumbs and practically melts into the kiss, already feeling far too feverish and hot for his liking. He blindly reaches for Fernando's shoulders for support, throws one leg over the bench, then scoots closer until he's as close as physically possible to the man.

    Tanned hands slide beneath his thighs, slanting them over his own as he deepens the kiss. Fernando feverishly allows his tongue to explore every expanse of Antoine's hot cavern, taking the time to re-instate every crevice to memory, as if he had actually forgotten what it was like. He grunts into the kiss, arm going around Antoine's waist, tugging him close until he's hissing at the brush of Antoine's hard cock against his own.

    "I missed you so much," murmurs Fernando into the kiss, tilting his head slightly to gain better access, the other fisting tightly into the back of Antoine's head. 

    "Tu m'as tellement manqué," corrects the Frenchman with a breathless laugh as he nudges a hand between their bodies to take a bold hold of Fernando's cock, offering it a firm squeeze. "Oui ou non?"

    "Oui," he replies as he withdraws from the kiss, pressing his forehead against the younger's, breathing unsteadily from his nose.

    There are no protests from the Fernando when Antoine snakes a hand into his shorts and beneath the band of his briefs, any remaining breath that remained within his lungs singlehandedly leaving him once a warm hand wraps securely around his cock. To describe what it was like having Antoine touch him would be something akin to a religious experience—it left him void of reality, had him thinking he was floating somewhere in nirvana.

    Each and every squeeze leaves him desperately anticipating the next, leaves him feeling far too hot even if he were only left in a tangle of his shorts and briefs. Finally, after what seemed like a century, the man begins to pump slowly up and down the length of his cock. He pays special attention to the head, thumb brushing tenderly across it, gathering the pre-cum dribbling there and smearing it across his heated flesh.

    He leans forward once more, head slightly tilted, to press his lips against Fernando's to silent any sounds of pleasure from emanating. Teeth eagerly nip at his lower lip, tasting him, before tugging it playfully between both of his own. He offers a soft chuckle at the breathy gasp that leaves the Spaniard, leaning in to nip at his lips once more until they're red and bruised.

    Without notice, Fernando rises to his feet, the Frenchman gathered warmly against his chest. Awkwardly he swings a leg over the bench then uses one hand to assist in removing the shorts and briefs, shimmying out of them until they pool in a heap around his ankles. He easily steps out of them and begins the short trek to the showers where he gently places the younger onto his feet, noticing the way he wobbles slightly, as if he were already dizzy from their rendezvous.

    Basic functions seem to escape the petite male now, however, as he just stands there with scarlet cheeks and rapidly blinking eyes that refuse to leave their focal point. So Fernando can only offer a reserved smile, sinking down until he's on his knees, fingers hitching within the hem of Antoine's shorts. Dark azure stare down at him, as if amazed by how things had shifted, trembling fingers carding through brunet locks.

    "Speechless?"

    Instead of formulating a response, the brunet can only weakly nod his head, mentally cursing that he didn't have a wall behind him to lean on. Seemingly satisfied with the response, skinny fingers slide the material of his shorts and briefs down milky thighs, revealing Antoine's cock, hard and standing at attention and reddened at the tip, practically begging for attention.

    "You had so much mouth before, tell me what you want?" Fernando coaxes a response from the younger, one hand going around his cock, sluggishly stroking him up and down. 

    One hand abandons Fernando's highlighted locks to form a circle around his mouth, the brunet shaking his head vigorously, the only response manageable being a thrust of his hips. Dark eyes marvel at the way his skin goes a deep crimson, from the apples of his cheeks down to his collar bones, and flaring across his chest.

    "I don't understand?"

    "I can't," mouths the Frenchman as he tangles hands within Fernando's locks once more, a pathetic whimper emanating from deep within his throat.

    Never one to tease, the Spaniard only smirks smugly, increasing the pace of his hand on Antoine's neglected cock. One hand wraps near the base, holding his cock firm and steady, his other hand going to cup his balls. He kneads them within his palm, offering soft squeezes here and there, all the while his lips part to take in Antoine's thick cock.

    Words, one's that were incomprehensible before, come now as the Frenchman's knees buckle. "E-est-ce que vous essayez de me t-tuer?"

    Mouth completely full of cock, the elder can only nod his head weakly, humming around Antoine's pulsing length. It sends vibrations through the tip of his cock to the base that reverberates throughout his entire body until the brunet is choking on a moan, fingers instinctively curling tightly into Fernando's hair.

    The very tip of Fernando's tongue traces along the rounded outline of the head, dipping into the slit, an action that leaves Antoine's toes curling inwardly. Already his breathing is hard, and Fernando isn't certain whether it's from his administrations or the previous workouts, but either way he's satisfied with the result as he repeats the action before suckling earnestly at the head to reel more of a response.

    "Soooo good," the words are elongated and more of an outstretched moan than anything else; a result that Fernando finds encouraging as he slides his tongue along the underside of his cock, cheeks hallowing as he bobs his head back and forth at a moderate pace: "Like that, yes.." hisses the Frenchman as he slides a hand to the back of Fernando's head, goading him into increasing the pace, controlling the movement of his head.

    The hand at his balls continues to gingerly stroke him, squeezing them when he tightens his mouth around his cock and sucks harshly, the combined administrations leaving the Frenchman rigid and spluttering in incomprehensible French that sounds much like a sultry symphony against Fernando's eardrums.

    "Gonna, gonna—..." the hushed voice trails off as he thrusts his hips forward without abandon, chasing his impending orgasm and the relief it would bring: "Merde.. I'm gonna.. Soon.. Nando.." 

    As reluctant as he is, the Spaniard halts all movements, glancing up apologetically to meet a bewildered pair of eyes that also gleam with hints of betrayal. Before he spews frustrated French, like Fernando knows he will, he stands to his feet and shoves him back toward the wall. Antoine's chest is rapidly rising and falling when he presses palms against the dry tile, eyes wide and frenzied as he stares at the elder with wanton lust, a hand trailing from his abdomen toward his cock to stroke himself.

    And, yeah.

    Fernando is certain that he won't be able to last, he knows for a fact, it had simply been too long without the familiar tightness of Antoine and his warm and welcoming form. Knew that as soon as he entered him that he would probably make a teenage boy look like a fucking pro. But he can't help it, no, as he hefts the younger against the wall, hands seeking his thighs to wrap them securely around his waist.

    And he does, clings onto Fernando like he's an anchor too, nails forming crescents into the skin of his back when the elder plunges into the tight heat of his body. There was no need for waiting, or even proper preparation for that matter, not when the two had waited oh so long to finally be connected in this intimate way once more.

    So the two work in tandem, Antoine raising his lithe form with Fernando earnestly plunging deeper into the snug fit of his body. Lips find each other once more, battling fervently for dominance, neither letting up even as Fernando continues to bury himself deeper and deeper into the suffocating heat that surrounds him.

    He angles his hips and slides his cock almost entirely out of Antoine before brutally thrusting upward to encase himself to the hilt, slowly working his cock in and out of him, feeling the younger's walls clench unbearably around his cock each time he withdraws. It's does nothing for the focus he attempts to build, trying to let Antoine receive all the pleasure he could physically offer, but it was difficult when the heat at the pit of his belly pleaded to be released in the form of hot, milky cum.

    But somehow he holds on to the last ounce of sanity he has, one hand wrapping around Antoine's cock once more, resuming previous administrations until he's biting down painfully hard on Fernando's bottom lip until they both taste the metallic tange of blood upon their tongues. Once more Antoine's walls clench around him, tugging him in deeper, burying him to the very hilt before finally the brunet clenches his eyes shut and silky streams of cum are spewing from his oversensitive cock.

    Fernando buries his face within Antoine's neck then, nipping eagerly at the skin there, using the sounds he makes—so unhinged and almost animalistc—to spur him along over the edge until he, too, releases deep inside of the younger. One of the huskiest of moans emanates deep from within his throat, hips weakly thrusting forward, breathing labored and broken, until he's reduced to nothing but desperately twitching hips that continue to buck upward even as he's consumed in the blissfully blinding white light of his peak.

    He swears he sees nothing but white in his vision as he continues to weakly stroke Antoine's cock with a trembling hand, hips continuing to spasm as he desperately rides out his orgasm, teeth forming marks in the tanned skin of Antoine's neck—he would be reprimanded for that later, but now? Now he can't concern himself over it as he struggles to maintain a hold on Antoine, muscles seeming to melt along with his resolve as he succumbs fully.

    Blindly, he reaches a hand out to search for the dial to the shower, finding it a second later and nearly hissing when hot spurts of water pound down against his back. Somehow it's more comforting than anything else, however, as he eases back into the spray with Antoine still secure against his chest.

    He releases a drowsy yawn, face still buried deep within the younger's neck, pressing a saccharine kiss there. "I think I need a nap," quips the elder as he steps directly beneath the water, rivulets running through his dark locks and cascading along the aching muscles of his back and stinging where scratches lay.

    "I was already there, at least until you—" Yawn. "said something." He nuzzles into the warmth of Fernando's neck, breathing slowly becoming steady and evening out. "Should I leave more often?"

    " _No_." Perhaps it's said too soon, but whatever, it was the truth. Fernando wasn't sure he could endure another long while without his favorite little Frenchman. "I mean, no, just—... Don't, okay?"

    Antoine releases an amused snort at that but nods regardless, "Yeah.. Yeah, I'll try not to."

    "And Antoine?" Named male offers a soft sound of recognition, "You're such a fucking tease."

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes i read my stuff and wonder how the hell i'm still a virgin ?? like ??
> 
> but seriously, thank you guys in advance for the kudos and comments, i appreciate it :3


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